


cIrcUs

by eighthcaramel



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, and a lot of other things, and depressing, and intense, feedback is welcome, i don't know whether or not i want to continue this?????, i had such a hard time writing the summary what the fuck, if i do continue this itll get gross, please read and tell me what you think, probably, so please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighthcaramel/pseuds/eighthcaramel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke Hemmings was kidnapped and forced to work in the circus business, along with many others. Ashton Irwin, an audience member, was just curious when he went snooping through the performers' tents, eventually running into Luke. The two promise to see each other again, but oh, soon Ashton will find out that there is more than meets the eye in this supposedly fun, supposedly happy circus. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A circus is supposed to be fun for everyone. A circus is supposed to have games and candy. They’re supposed to make you laugh, and make you beg for more. The circus is supposed to make you warm and to lift your spirits when you’re having a bad day.

A circus is supposed to entertain.

A circus is supposed to entertain, and they’ll do that by any means. No matter what cost, they’ll make your eyes widen in shock or your stomach hurt from laughing too hard and too much.

Because that’s what’s supposed to happen. You’re supposed to enjoy yourself, and everything’s bright and happy. Various stunts take place and everyone looks to be having the best time of their lives. Even the performers; the bearded lady, conjoined twins, man with a tail, and every other human oddity have wide grins on their faces.

But that’s all just an act.

 You don’t get to see behind the scenes. You don’t see the tears that are shed as limbs are sawed off, blood seeping off the table and staining the wooden floors. You don’t hear the shrill screams as pieces of mutilated flesh are sewn onto different body parts of small, helpless children.

They’re taken off the streets unwillingly. Ripped apart from loving families, from parents that nurture and grandparents that spoil them rotten. They’re whisked away from the streets, but no one seems to notice their absence. Minus their loved ones, of course.

All of this pain and suffering, only to be ridiculed and laughed at. Some of them are orphans. Cold and lost, they are forced to become beggars in the dark alleys. Their clothes are reduced to rags, and their flesh to skin and bones.

It’s shocking, isn’t it? How you’re being fed lies about false happiness and good memories. How those supposedly cheery little boys and girls are actually malnourished and emaciated kids who wish with all their might to _die_. It’d be better than living through the hell that is their lives, they think.

Or, at least, that’s what Luke thinks.

He was kidnapped a few years ago, at the age of – what, fifteen? Perhaps fourteen. He doesn’t remember. It’s been too long for that.

He’d tried to escape. Who wouldn’t? Unfortunately, however, he was caught. The ringmaster cruelly ordered a few drops of acid to be poured onto his left shoulder as a punishment, saying something along the lines of “If this happens again, there’ll be more where this came from.” And even more unfortunately, the canister had spilled, causing the acid to run down the majority of his neck and back. It had created an immense burning sensation, and it reminded him of being burned alive, although he hasn’t exactly experienced that. The wounds haven’t fully healed yet despite the long amount of time that has already passed, and the color ranges from a pasty white to a charred brown.

Oddly enough, the ringmaster had scolded the asshole that spilt the chemical. How weird.

And Luke thought himself as lucky compared to the other hopeless kids he’s met in his time being there. For example, he’s seen a pair of twins – who _used_ to be separated – that have been sewn together to have one body (he’s seen the stitches). Another’s limbs had been stretched somehow to make him appear as a giant. One of the girl’s legs had been sewn tightly together – a mermaid. A different girl’s legs had been replaced with that of a goat. A lot of the others had scars both from beatings and what Luke assumes is the acid. Nothing at all was done to him apart from the acid on his back, and he doesn’t know why.

It was a freak show.

Some of the children tried to lift others’ spirits, albeit failing. Others are convinced that their lives had already ended, crying themselves to sleep at night as another child would rub their back in an attempt of comfort.

His orders were to stay away from the other kids and to do absolutely nothing whenever he had free time; the ringmaster didn’t want him getting “attached.” He didn’t listen, though. Whenever he could, he’d visit the others with a bitter smile and try to cheer them up. They’d chat for a minute or two, and then Luke would be off. He was always given orders to help around the circus tents, and other things of the like. Sometimes he was ordered to be a part of the acrobatics. Having to fly around as a trapeze artist and trust someone to catch him frightened him. Walking the tightrope wasn’t any better.

He hated having to bypass sobbing children curled into a ball or huddled together. It was horribly depressing, and Luke almost hated the fact that he had gotten away with simply acid on his shoulder. It was unfair.

It was unfair, and the other kids knew that. Whenever his back was turned, he could feel them glare daggers at him, igniting his acid burns once more and the fiery pain returning instantly.

They hated him. They would never be mean to his face, but they despised him so very much due to the fact that barely anything was done to him. Yeah, he’d attempted to play nice with them, but he was ridiculously afraid that they’d snap at him any second.

He was sitting against one of the posts that held the main tent up when everyone was sent into a frenzy. It always startled him, but he did know the show was to start soon. He had never paid attention because he was busy wallowing in a sea of his own tears and pain. He misses his family and their antics and occasional bickering. He misses his mother. He misses when he was little, and her tucking him into bed, planting a warm kiss on his forehead after telling him a bedtime story.

He sighs, taking his time to stand and walk to one of the other tents. He wasn’t allowed to be seen by the spectators unless ordered to. Ringmaster’s orders.

Luke takes a deep breath as the cold night air hits him in the face when he exits the tent, closing his eyes and pausing his movements. His eyes snap open as he’s pushed aside by one of the men who he believes is one of the “fire-breathers,” who continues walking past him and into the tent Luke had just left. He doesn’t miss the scowl on his face.

His gaze sweeps over his surroundings; different performers and human oddities scrambling around the area to get ready for the show. Some carried various props, and others were frantically putting on their wondrous outfits. If Luke didn’t know about what goes on behind the stage, he’d find the place spectacular.

As Luke watches the people around him scurrying about, an idea forms in his head that could probably get him killed. Since he was almost never allowed to be seen by the attendees, he was pretty much never able to see the show. And when he was in the show, he didn’t get to see it from the audience’s perspective. Despite the fact that he hated the organization to the very core, he was still quite curious to see what went on. He wanted to see how well the others put on their masks.

Though he knew he would be in _big_ trouble if he was caught, he was still going to sneak into the main tent and see the circus. He thinks he’s got nothing else to live for anyway.

 

 

Luke had no idea it’d be so loud. Even when the ringmaster was speaking, the audience went wild. He sat right outside the edge of the tent, peeking through the crack in the fabric in order to not be seen. Outside it was cold, the breeze making him shiver violently. He longed to be in the audience. Not because he wanted a better seat, but because it was probably _so much warmer_. Knowing how everyone in the circus was treated made his heart ache, and he definitely didn’t want to see the falsities of the performers. But, as you can see, curiosity got the best of him.

“Ladies and gentlemen!!” he hears the ringmaster say in a loud, booming voice. “Boys and girls!! Are you ready to get this show on the road?!” The crowd roars. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

Luke swears he’ll go deaf if the crowd continues being this loud.

“Great!! Well, let’s get started, shall we?”

 

 

All in all, the inner child in Luke found the circus absolutely spectacular. It actually looked _fun_ , when, in reality, the majority of the performers were so, so sad. If Luke knew everyone was happy and getting along well, maybe he’d actually _like_ performing in the circus.

He didn’t enjoy the part involving the big cats. When you looked closely at the tigers, you could see the burning hatred inside of their eyes as they looked at the animal tamers, some of the few people who loved being in this circus. The animal tamers used whips as a punishment when they were disobedient and it was absolutely horrifying. Plus, it was easy to see that the collars were too tight for the large felines. Luke doesn’t want to admit it, but he wished that the animals would rebel and attack the performers.

The tightrope walkers played their part well, and balance seemed to be their forte. And if anything, he was envious of the trapeze artists. They did the job better than himself. The way they pierced the air was beautifully graceful. It was easy to tell that the performers trusted each other, whereas if it were Luke, he’d probably end up landing face first in the dirt. He imagines his clammy hands grossing the one who’d catch him, and due to nervousness, he’d fall to his death.

Luke trudged to the animal tent – a common act he did whenever he had time to spare. Being around the animals was calming to him, and he’s sure his occasional petting provided at least a little bit of comfort for them.

He pulls the flap of the tent apart and enters it. Some of the animals turn to see his entrance, but the majority of them are lying down, possibly sleeping.

Or dwelling in boredom and sorrow.

Luke quietly takes a seat on the dirt floor, leaning against one of the lion cages. Hearing movement behind him, he turns his head to look at the lion through the corner of his eye. The lion had been lying at the opposite side of the cage, but is currently walking towards Luke. He plops down on the other side of the fence, pressing himself as close to Luke as possible.

The animals trust him.

He sighs contently, letting his eyes drift shut. He concentrates on the warmth of the lion, and feels himself growing sleepy. He knows he shouldn’t fall asleep, though. He could get caught, and even worse, _punished_.

He desperately wants to go home. Memories replay themselves in his head over and over again, both good and bad. He doesn’t try to stop his eyes from watering.

He does push the feeling down after several minutes when he hears movement somewhere outside the tent. No one can see him cry. Although it was considered normal around this circus in particular, _no one can see him cry_.

Frozen, he attempts to decipher the sound. As silence takes over, he slowly rises from his spot on the ground trying to be as silent as possible. After scanning the area to make sure no one was inside the tent besides him and the animals, he takes small, quiet steps towards the back entrance to the tent. That’s where he was sure he heard the noise, after all.

Luke freezes once more as he hears the sound of slithering, along with a few hisses. He’s sure that one of the snakes had just got out, but then he hears a mumbled string of curses paired with the rustling of fabric. He tries to pair the voice with a face, but comes up with no match.

He stands before the exit, fear suddenly taking over him. What if he gets in trouble? And does he _still_ want to see who’s there? He knows he probably should, but he knows he’s too weak to fight the person. He would, however, willingly talk the person out of whatever they’re doing or going to do. Plus, there’s a small chance that a brawl would end up taking place anyway.

Luke cautiously peeks out of the tent flap, scanning the outside. From his position, he could see two of the other tents across the small dirt path in between. Everything seems to be normal. Nothing out of place. . .

Suddenly, Luke is pushed back with a strong force, his back hitting the ground hardly. Something heavy lies on his chest, and he finds it hard to breathe. Having shut his eyes on instinct, he cracks an eye open to see whatever had happened.

He is greeted by a head of short, curly brown hair. Whoever is on top of him lets out a groan in pain, and Luke squirms in an attempt to crawl out from underneath this unknown human being. The boy lying on him sits up, glancing around him until his gaze finally lands on Luke. Luke suddenly feels self-conscious, hoping his scars aren’t too noticeable.

The boy’s big eyes widen as he scrambles to the side and off of Luke. Luke sits up, eyeing the boy. He looks to be around Luke’s age. He wears a pair of skinny jeans, and his grey hoodie is zipped up. Luke has never seen him before, and it’s quite obvious he doesn’t belong. The boy speaks in a hurried whisper. “Oh, my god, I am so sorry.” He is panic-stricken, and his shifty eyes take quick looks at the animals in the cages.

Luke’s mind is blank, and he blinks multiple times before his brow furrows and he whispers back, “You. . . Aren’t supposed to be here.” That’s all he can manage to say.

The boy swallows a lump in is throat. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. J-just don’t tell anyone. You can’t, okay? I-I’ll leave, I promise!” The boy grabs Luke’s shoulders, trying to get Luke to believe him.

“Why. . . Why are you here?”

“I-I got curious, alright? I was curious, so I snuck in a-and one of the snakes almost bit me and-“

“Calm down.” Luke puts his hands up to show he means no harm. “I won’t tell anyone. Now speak slower.”

The boy takes a deep breath and begins his story. “One of the snakes almost bit me, so I panicked and when I backed up, I ran into something and everything fell over and I had thought someone heard so I came in here to hide. . .” He inhales once more before adding, “Please don’t tell anyone!!”

Luke stares at this intruder, taking all of this information in. He talks slowly. “I already told you I won’t tell anyone.”

The boy lets out a long sigh of relief. He looks at Luke with a curious expression. “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Shouldn’t you be on your way out?”

“Yes! I will, I swear. But what’s your name?”

Luke sighs. “Luke,” he breathes out exasperatedly.

“I’m Ashton. Pleased to meet you.” Ashton extends his hand with a cheeky grin, and Luke shakes it with a bit of hesitation. After a minute or two of pure silence, Ashton opens his mouth. He reluctantly asks, “What’s that scar on your neck from?” Ashton points at Luke’s neck.

Luke’s hand flies to his neck protectively, his long fingers wrapping over the rotten flesh. He grimaces as he feels the scars from the burns. “Why do you want to know?” he spits out. He won’t trust Ashton with this huge secret. Not only that, he could get even worse a punishment than he had before. And in addition, he doesn’t want to end up getting someone else hurt.

Ashton jumps slightly at his tone. “J-just curious. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Ashton then frowns, changing the subject. “You weren’t in the show, were you?”

“Not in this one, no.” Luke turns his head to make sure no one else had entered the tent.

“Then you’ve been in others?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you do?”

“Different things.”

Ashton pouts. “Are you ever going to give me a decent answer?”

“I doubt it.” Luke sighs in frustration. “Listen, if you stay here any longer, we’ll both be in huge trouble. You have to go. I’m sorry, but I need to stop talking to you.” Luke stiffens, changing his position to sit on his legs.

Ashton does the same. He moves to stand, but halts. He faces Luke with a serious expression. “Hey, Luke?”

“What?”

“Do you think I could see you again sometime?” He sounds ridiculously hopeful.

And honestly, Luke wasn’t paying attention to words anymore. He was busy fretting over possibly being caught. “Sure, whatever,” he blurts out.

“Promise?”

“. . . Yeah, I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

Morning went by horribly slowly.

Luke was ordered to wash all of the dirty dishes after breakfast. Not only that, he was told to clean the tables in the tent they used for eating. And it was as if everyone seemed to make a mess on purpose! There were crumbs everywhere, and large spills of different foods and drinks. Their cafeteria was large, full of old wooden tables and benches, and Luke honestly wanted to cry when he stood at the entrance and looked at the entirety of the tent.

He wanted desperately for someone to offer help. He’d look up every time a shadow passed over him, but the owner of the shadow would never spare him a glance. This caused him to continue his work, lip quivering and eyes watering. His vision would grow blurry.

Though, he guessed it was only fair. All of the other performers of the circus had acid thrown onto them numerous times in various places, while Luke only had acid on his skin once, and _that_ was only an accident. Because everyone had the acid and he got away with nothing, he assumes that the forced labor is their way of evening out the balance. They were both very different forms of torture.

_It’s awful._

Despite his hatred for the organization he worked for, Luke scrubbed the dishes and tables diligently so he wouldn’t end up getting punished, enduring the freezing water that the circus never was able to get rid of. He did his best to keep the tears in, and his expression consisted of a hard glare and his mouth in a tight straight line the entire time.

_I hate it here._

By the time he was done, the cold bath he had taken that morning had gone to waste. He was covered in sweat and dirt from kneeling down on the ground and putting deep effort into his actions. He wants to take another bath, but he knows he’s not allowed to. There’s no time. And if he does anyways, he’ll get in big trouble.

_You get in big trouble for a lot of things._

With a defeated look on his face, Luke exits the tent, wiping his forehead with his forearm. Judging from the sun, he guesses it’s around noon. It’s incredibly hot, and Luke’s throat is dry. He wants water.

He’s about to turn around to head back into the tent for water when he feels a hand on his shoulder. The hand is large, warm, and causing him to jump a little. He turns his head to see one of the animal tamers.

Johann was the larger of the two animal tamers and the only male of the two. He was rather buff, and his shiny bald head gleamed in the sunlight, making any onlookers go blind for at least two seconds. He was dressed in his training clothes, which consisted of a plain white t-shirt and a pair of odd-looking shorts.

Luke hadn’t seen Johann coming. He assumes that Johann had approached him from the entrance to the cafeteria opposite the side Luke was on. He stares up at Johann, squinting due to his baldness and the also the sun. Mainly the baldness though.

“Yes, sir?” Johann’s job in the circus was of more importance than what Luke’s was, so therefore, Luke had to pay his respects. He gulps nervously.

“Klachiovaski’s asked for your presence, brat.” His tone is harsh, yet his expression is unreadable. Luke’s mood worsens when he hears the ringmaster’s name. His heart sinks slightly as well when he hears the name-calling.

“Y-Yes, sir.” Luke’s averts his eyes, shifting his gaze from object to object. Johann gives his shoulder a tight squeeze before letting go and heading off in his own direction.

Luke fumbles with the hem of his shirt out of nervousness and uncertainness. He knows he should report to Klachiovaski right away, but he really doesn’t want to. He’s scared. Very scared.

Klachiovaski’s asked for him. For Luke.

What on earth could he want? Luke’s insides churned and he felt like he was going to throw up. He stared down at the ground, shifting his weight and closing his eyes in an attempt to steady himself.

Well, time to visit the ringmaster.

 

 

Hesitantly, Luke pulls the flap of the dirty yellow tent of the ringmaster’s to the side. He peeks in to make sure he won’t be intruding in on anything. That would be bad. Very bad.

Seeing no one, he enters the tent, looking around the circular room as the flap falls to a close behind him.

“You sure took your time, didn’t you?” A low voice cuts through the silence, making Luke jump. Luke turns behind him, to the direction of the sound, and stands face-to-chest with the abnormally tall ringmaster, Klachiovaski. A large, firm hand is placed on his shoulder to make sure that he doesn’t try to run away from whatever is going to occur next.

“I-I came as fast as I could, sir.” Luke’s heart is increasing in speed. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He doesn’t know whether or not to be afraid. He doesn’t know what to think.

“Which wasn’t very, I see.” Klachiovaski’s cold gaze stares deep into Luke’s soul. It was very unsettling.

Luke wanted to at least back away from the man, but the hand on his shoulder keeps him from doing so. Swallowing, Luke asks quietly, “What did you need, sir?”

“I wanted to remind you of your show next weekend.” He squeezes Luke’s shoulder. Hard enough to cause Luke to flinch. “You have permission to enter the practice tents.”

“Y-Yes, sir. A-Alright, sir.” Luke’s eyes are glued to the dirt floor of the tent.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy,” Klachiovaski’s hand moves from his shoulder to his jaw, forcefully turning Luke’s head upwards.

“Yes, sir. I-I’m sorry.” Luke cringes, hoping the ringmaster won’t be able to see the fear in his eyes. Oh, but deep down he knows he can.

“What was that?” The ringmaster spits out.

“I’m sorry, s-sir.” Luke’s voice is small. Hey, it’s not Luke’s fault that he turns into a stuttering, frightened mess when he’s around his boss!

The ringmaster stares at Luke hard before he finally responds. “That’s more like it.” He growls out.

Klachiovaski then shoves Luke out of his way and makes his way deeper into the tent, sitting down behind his worn-out wooden desk in his worn-out wooden chair. “Now get the hell out of my tent.”

Luke never ran so fast in his life.

 

Once out of the tent, Luke is unsure of where he should go. He knows he should probably practice his routine, but he also needs some relaxation time after what just happened. And the circus animals provide such nice (and fluffy) comfort.

He should go to the practice tents.

But does he? Hell no.

He speed-walks to the animal tents, eager to sit with his fuzzy friends.

Rounding the corner to the animal tent, he opens the flap to said tent, peering inside.

However, he freezes when he sees an all-too-familiar figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't know how to end this! i felt like it was getting too long! i'm sorry!


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